


In Deep

by Sing



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feels, over emotional semi fix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6013894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing/pseuds/Sing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rambling Feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Deep

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Sleepy Hollow

The way he held her hand had been a warning. A flare going off. Something's coming, something's changing. 

She'd felt it before. 

She'd known it before. The first time, when his voice had rumbled in her ear, unbidden, of all places, when she'd set foot through the doors at Quantico. 

"Leftenant" 

The briefest of pauses, a shake of her head, a deep breath, a confident smile, before letting her interrupted dream begin. 

"Yes, it is time you pick up where you left off. I am glad of it,"

A determined frown to erase it. To keep erasing it when it appears at the most unwelcome times. 

***********

She'd known the minute the name passed her lips, before any others, waking there in the cave. "Crane?"

She'd cursed herself for it later. 

After all, it had never been Abbie's intention to survive. Never. 

Not once had it occurred to her, an expulsion from one world to solitude in another, breathing, living, enough sense to count hours but not enough to find an escape yet. Enough sense to craft a chess board, to keep her sharp wits. 

But not enough to banish the irrationality of speaking to him. 

Enough though, to know his moves, exactly what he would say.

And yet STILL not damning enough to know better than to approach him the way she had when he'd appeared, so over exposed and damn over eager, arms so ready and willing---it shows then, she knows it. In that moment when she is broken and relieved it shows and she cannot take back that secret vulnerable glimpse---that the first thing she needs, is not

How? 

When?

Not these paltry, sensible answers but their bond manifest into the stronghold of arms folded around one another, the safety, and clutching cherishing that assures them they are not alone. That's what she needed. From him. Him. In that moment he cannot oblige her she's flayed bare for all to see, for just a glimmer before he becomes mist and appears again across the room.

With the quiet stealthy grace of a phantom she would never have wished upon herself.

But this haunting she'll take. 

A face for the torment. Something she can snarl at properly. Laugh at. Laugh with. Drink in familiar eyes. 

Eyes that regard her warily when she announces she talks to him. What, she almost barks, jealous of imaginary Crane? I've spoiled you. I've never given you proper competition. But she must seize these moments, find sense, find her way back from the cliff of her sanity now because this is all the Crane she gets now, all she can afford--she cannot waste it. They need a way out. 

She knows it in her voice when she thanks him for coming. For not giving up. The heavy confidential bewilderment of it. His gaze shifts again. She must appear a wild thing to him. A creature, for all her time here, perhaps she's grown horns without knowing. 

Abbie knows when his tether is cut and the tears come.

Abbie knows, when his voice continues to berate her. "Leftenant"

"Broken record Crane, What?" 

"I meant what I said before, you're always,here, with me. Ever since we first met" she rants. 

Ever since. 

Abbie knew that day. That night. She was in deep. Deeper. Every day. Every moment. She has been sinking on the S.S Crane for God only knows how long. 

And that's fine. They aren't meant for land, anyway, her and Crane. They aren't meant for anything, concrete tangible and that is embedded in logic. 

What they are, what they are---is something transcendent, something celestial. Something invisible and strong and difficult to wield. This bond, of theirs---she has many moments alone to think---this bond of theirs is beyond them, overpowers them, crowds and floods them---Abbie wonders if it's the bond---this destiny faint entwined virus she managed to catch---is it the bond, she wonders.

The bond that makes me speak to you. Memorize the tones of your voice, your words, your gestures.

That makes me reach for you.

Weep for you, when we had barely known each other two months if a day. 

Weep before you. Weep before you. My tears are diamonds I lock in a safe----yet you have picked that lock. Not with your delicate long tapered fingers, not with a clever key---you.

Is it the bond that makes you, you? 

Do we have any choice in it? could we fight it if we wanted it? 

Is my head my own anymore or does it belong to the bond and that is what will rule me from now on? Does the bond make me ache, contemplate the abysmal future without you in it, rage now that I have made my move. Is it the bond that says to me "Come now Leftenant, if we are to face an eternity let it be with chin held high," 

Is it the bond, is it my will to survive? is it YOU. Is it you, that makes me pause here, hefting this cutlass, ruminating on Betsy Ross and----

"Did she escape?" 

It takes, a certain degree of strength, trust, mettle, to succumb. To give in to potential. To the powers beyond. I give myself to it now. Lowering myself down into this well. I own it, I must. This bond is mine, ours. We are each other's. Don't make me define it. We are. 

"Leftenant"

A nod, "You're still here" 

The darkness yawns below me. I can't know what lies on the other side, but I give myself to it. 

I give myself over unto my destiny. 

As I have, again and again, but it can't hurt to reaffirm it. To recommit myself. I give myself over to my preordained destiny. To the bond. To God. To trust. To Faith. 

I give in to myself and whatever special brand of madness clings to you, to follow me. 

I am in too deep.

I give in to being in, 

too,

deep.

*************

"Stay with me, I need you,"

I give myself to the struggle, the fight the depths. And rise. 

Abbie has known, since she walked in the door and was greeted by Jenny, when Jenny dares hint he is alone.

"Not alone, never alone,"

She knows it in her own desperation then as she clasps his hand to call him back. I trust in me. She thinks. If you can reach me, damnit Crane, I can reach you. I trust in us. I give in to us, whatever this is, the full power of it, come back to me. 

She hefts the mighty sword of their infallible connection. 

She waves it like a beacon in the dark tunnels for him to follow.

She summons him with it, her soul, her essence, her past present future and eternity, across whatever time and space and planes he may roam to come home. 

They are each other's. They are home. Where one goes the other must follow. 

Give in, to this, Crane, she begs silently, his hand clasped so tight. Give in to me, and I'll find you. I surrender to this, I give in to you--

A gasp. His eyes blink open. Wonder and relief. 

*******************

He knows. 

He'd known the instant he laid eyes on her.

When he left her behind and felt his heart shred into tatters even with his wife restored. When it was easy to slay her, to preserve, the Leftenant's life. 

He'd known when he'd watched her drown and could not help her.

When he was willing and able and prepared, to stand by her side against the tormentor of dreams. He would go where she went.

He knew when he tried to escape, to clear his head

But your head is not yours, anymore Ichabod Crane. 

It's ours. 

The bond.

It takes hold of us and won't let go of us, it calls us to one another and we cannot let go. The bond is our curse and our blessing.

It will make us strong.

It will break us.

It will make us give our lives for the other. 

So selfish in our selflessness, to leave the other to walk alone. 

It will make us sacrifice the other, because we know our plight. Our costs. What we will be asked to pay. We will understand. We will choose us. We will choose our bond, no matter what hurts will follow. 

He knew when she lay in that hospital bed. The itch to go closer that he held back. The bond nagged at him.

He knew in the trees. "The fear of losing you,"

In the forest. 

"You ready to fight some bad guys Crane?" 

Lock and load, Ride or die. He'd known, then. "Indeed,"

Her confident smile and that signature swagger. Her warm velvet voice. "My man,"

Yes, he agrees. Yours. I will walk into fire with you.

He knew, when she took the flight alone. "Don't" he'd called. 

He'd known, when she'd met his eyes before she disappeared. He knew at the foot of the tree on his knees. The hollowness in his chest. 

Is it the bond. He'd wondered. 

The bond that makes me gaze at your picture, as if it might move. Speak to it, as if it would speak back? That makes me carry on so tirelessly. 

Is it the bond that robs life of its savour? The bond that takes away my senses, taste, smell, leaving only drive. Only the quest for you. Is any of this my choice anymore or has it all been decided and I simply must adhere to it. 

He'd known, when he plunged into that mirror, swimming blindly in his search, dredging up a monster instead, the taste of his own desperation leaving blood and bile in his mouth. 

Any length. He would go any length for her. Deep.

In too deep. 

He'd known, when the horror he felt at his tether being severed, not at his wandering soul. 

But wandering without her. Leaving her behind. He could be lost. He could be trapped. But not without her. 

How would she fare in that place now?

His mind obliterated into nothing

*********************

A battering ram, metal clanging off a cave wall. He turns. 

A light blazing, bobbing in the distance.

A summons. A call. He must answer it. He must give in. She will come for you. 

I give in, to the bond. To Trust to faith to God. I give in to us. We are each other's. It will be some time before I can piece together the words for it but Abbie I give in to you---

"oh, oh." He's returned. His grasps for her hand. "That was strange, very strange." 

Like a fog meandering in his brain until he makes himself look upon it. "I followed your voice" It shines in her face. 

And he knows he is in deep. 

In,

too,

deep.

Her hand in his. Slender fingers fitting and folding and he holds it to his heart. What new pledge can he offer here? What more can he say? 

What time worn words of devotion can possibly describe here, before friendly eyes. He looks at her and begs. I do not know what to say now, but let me try. Give in to me, and I'll----

She looks over her shoulder at Joe. 

"Your queen to my knight," he begins, and her face cracks a smile. Eyes glinting and lit up like stars. 

The words will not come now.

They are raw, and must contend with reality, with each other. In familiar land now they wonder if perhaps they over exaggerated. Perhaps they have over immersed themselves in the other during the absence. A figment of their minds. Perhaps the bond plays tricks when they are weary. 

Perhaps it forces them to confront things they are unwilling to admit to find their strength. Find each other. 

There is laughter. 

Their eyes meet.

No words now. Keep those locked up tight like the delicate precious things they are, they seem to say. Let us hold onto this unspoken understanding, a little longer. This stronger, frightening thing, beyond our imagination. Let these souls flicker like twin flames, crackling in the silence. Let this stand, for now. But know this. 

She looks up at him. 

I give in, to you.

He smirks at her. 

I give in, to you.

They saunter away. 

I'm in too deep. 

Too Deep.

With You.


End file.
